Callum & Harper
Page 8

“Oh nothing. I just like this.”
“What?”
“Standing close to you like this.”
“Oh,” I brilliantly said, no doubt turning bright red. This is, like, a new record for me. Pathetic, I laughed at myself. “I can’t say that I am that adverse to it. Your shirt smells amazing.”
Callum’s eyes squint, revealing a wicked grin. The inside of his left arm rubs against my cheek and sends a spark through my skin, heating up my stomach. My own arm felt too heavy to hold up anymore. He leaned his body closer to mine and the crowd around us turned invisible, leaving us alone with our cumbersome breaths, our chests heaving heavily with anticipation and a promise of things to come. He brushed the hair on my left shoulder back before sinking his face against the crook of my neck and breathing in deeply.
“Have I told you how amazing I find the way you smell? You make me dazed. I feel punch drunk around you.”
The breath I didn’t know I was holding rushed out all at once. I sucked in an even deeper breath when he kissed the little bit of collarbone exposed by my t-shirt so lightly I could barely feel it. It was a chaste kiss but felt so intimate my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I closed my lids to prevent myself from passing out right there and when I opened them, Callum’s face was but a few inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath against my cheek, his lips a provocative invitation. I could only stare as his radiant green eyes searched my face.
“Harper,” he whispered but before he can finish we’re both slammed into the direction we’re travelling as the car comes to a screeching halt.
We can only stand, gaping at the other at the lost moment but something escaped his eyes, making me feel uncomfortable. I thought I read regret in them but what kind, I wasn’t sure. Regret he couldn’t continue? Regret that he stepped over a line?
“Sorry,” he said, “that got out of hand. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s alright,” I offered, hoping the supreme disappointment I was truly feeling wasn’t coming through.
The doors to the car slid open and people started spilling out. Callum took my hand and guided me out to avoid getting trampled. We walked in silence until we reached the doors to NYU’s administration building. Callum grabbed the handle to the large wooden doors but stopped before walking in.
“Come here,” he said, dragging me to the side.
“But you’ll be late,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact so the tears welling up wouldn’t spill over and embarrass the hell out of me.
That’s the kind of humiliation I just didn't want to have to endure. I’d endured all kinds my entire life but this one I at least had control over. I’d be damned if I shed a tear over a boy who owed me nothing because that was beyond pathetic and I was tired of being pathetic. In fact, it was me who owed him and I realized that just because he wasn’t interested in me the way I was interested in him, it wasn’t his fault.
Callum stared up at the large clock on the building’s forefront, noticing the time, and rushed through the doors, dragging me along with him, his previous speech forgotten. We turned a corner and approached a set of double doors. He pressed his hand to the knob but sighed before turning. A young student with insane green spiked hair and a studded collar manned a sort of desk at the front of the room.
“May I help you?” She asked cheerily, wearing a massive smile, negating every assumption I instantly made of her.
“Yes,” Callum said. “I have an appointment with Sylvia Lengrand at nine-fifteen.”
“Of course, if you’ll take a seat,” she said, gesturing to a line of simple upholstered chairs. “I’ll see if she’s ready for you.”
The girl stood, revealing a cute little pixie figure. She was wearing a short black skirt, fishnets, and combat boots that met her shins. She had a black camisole under a shredded t-shirt and piercings in every part of her body imaginable but she was obviously a sweet girl. She was just another walking example of why you should never judge a book by its cover. I can’t stand ‘cover judgers’.
She returned with a petite brunette with brown eyes.
“You must be Callum,” she said with a bright smile, shaking his hand before turning to the girl. “Thank you, Bridget.”
“No probs, Syl,” she answered. “Can I offer you two anything to drink?” She asked us before sitting down.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“Me too,” Callum offered.
“Okay, if you need anything, just ask,” she said before taking her seat again.
“And who’s this?” Sylvia Lengrand asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me. Sylvia, meet Harper Bailey,” he said, bringing his hand to my lower back. Heat pooled into the skin where his hand rested and I wished I could glue it there, permanently. I took her hand and smiled. “Harper was accepted here and I’m trying to convince her to attend.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m glad you came, then. I’m just the person to talk you into it,” she winked, pulling my hand toward her. “Alright, this way, love birds,” she said, walking toward the back.
“Love birds?” We said in unison.
She stopped and gawked at us. “I’m so sorry. Did I assume incorrectly? You just seem so comfortable with the other. I apologize. I’m always making a fool of myself with you young folks.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I was just curious as to what gave us away,” Callum said, poking me in the ribs with his elbow.
Oh good gracious, I think I’m in like with Callum Tate. Sylvia smiled and opened her office door.
“Take a seat,” she said.
We sat side by side and Callum playfully dragged my chair closer to his, with me in it, as if I weighed nothing, his muscles bunched as he pulled and I had to fight myself to prevent a bite to his forearm. Get a hold of yourself, Harper.
“Alright, let me just gather a few files,” she said, diving into a file cabinet, her back toward us.
I stare at Callum and he sticks his tongue out at me which makes me burst out laughing. Sylvia turned around. “What?” She asked.
“Oh, I was just teasing her,” Callum admitted, but his cheeks pink, revealing an even more adorable him, as if that’s possible.
Sylvia returned to her files only to pull out a stack and sits at her desk. She stares at the stack while music pumps through a speaker above. I bit my bottom lip and sarcastically bumped my head to the cheesy ballad. Callum grinned and slid an air guitar he supposedly kept strapped to his back into his hands. Totally immersed in our pretend jam, we finally emerged when Sylvia yelled Callum’s name.
“Sorry,” we said in unison.
“That’s okay, you were obviously in your own little world but as adorable as the two of you are, I need Mister Tate to sign a few forms for me.” She slid the papers over to him. “I’ve marked all the spots you need to sign for me, Callum.” She handed him a pen and turned her body towards me. Callum smirked at me and dove in. “Now,” Sylvia said, turning slightly towards me, “did you have any questions about NYU, Harper?”
“Uh, not really. Callum dragged me here against my will. He’s actually holding me hostage.”
“I am not!” He exclaimed before realizing I was joking and rolled his eyes.
Sylvia smiled. “Listen, Harper. Obviously you have reservations about attending school here but that’s why I’m here. I can smooth out all your worries, all you have to do is talk.”
I sighed in resignation.
“Okay, just remember, you asked for it.”
“Go on,” she said. I noticed Callum’s pen stilled as he feigned interest in the top paragraph of the paper he just signed the bottom of.
“I’m an orphan. My parents abandoned me to a system that failed me. I’ve been kicked from my foster home. I have no money, no job, no home, no hope. College is a pipe dream. Just because I got in does not mean I have the capability of attending. I can barely survive, Sylvia. I’m not college material.”
I let the words spill from my mouth in a blur. Both Callum and Sylvia paused, barely breathing.
“That’s ridiculous,” Sylvia said suddenly.
“Excuse me?” I said, offended.
She grabbed my hand. “I’m not saying your life isn’t tough. I can only imagine what you’re going through but you can do anything you want to, Harper. Stop letting your past effect your future. You’re in charge. Now, listen to me. I want you to fill out this half-sheet,” she said pulling out a piece of paper from a side drawer. “It’s everything I need to look you up in our system and find ways to get you attending classes, whether that’s with tuition, books, food, or shelter. I can find it. Are you willing to do that?”
I hesitantly looked at the sheet of paper, twirling it in a circle on her desk when Callum slid his pen over to me. I looked up at him and his encouraging eyes plead with mine. I simply nodded and took the pen.
Chapter Four
Dream On
Callum
Harper and I left my appointment with Sylvia with yet another set for the both of us the day after the concert.
“First things first,” I said to a stunning Harper. Her eyes were bright with hope and shone with speckled bits of glittery gold.
“What’s that?” She asked.
“We figure out how we’re going to survive the night.”
“Tell me what to do, Callum. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Hush, Harper. Now, listen.” I looked around for the time. The clock on the building’s face read eleven thirty in the morning. “Crap, it’s too late to get work at the docks.” An idea crept in and I snapped my fingers. “Okay, I got it. I know a guy in the Village who owns a restaurant. He lets me bus tables for cash under the table but you have to get there early. Up for hauling butt for a few blocks?”
“Anything,” she said, stopping my heart. A fighter.
I smiled at her and grabbed her hand. We started weaving our way through people on their way to lunch. I can only hope that we’ll make my guy’s place before it’s too late and he turned us away.
Martin’s cool. His place always has people lined up around the door for lunch rushes and he can never seem to keep his bussers. I’m banking on the fact that he’ll be just as desperate for help as we’re in a desperate way for cash.
By the time we reach his restaurant, people are already lined up, a good sign. Harper makes her way to the front door but I stop her short.
“No, through the back,” I whispered in her ear.
We rounded the exterior of the building and entered through the back. Martin’s Italian and loud and amazing.
“Martin,” I said, interrupting his yelling at a few cowering cooks.
He turns toward me, surprised. “Callum,” he said. Only, it sounds like Cowlum. “Where have you been, my boy? I’ve been in need of help for weeks!”
“I’m sorry, Martin. I’ve been barely staying afloat recently. I haven’t been on this side of town.”